Playing for Keeps
by rosenymphadoramalfoy
Summary: 25 years later and all is not well. The Triwizard Tournament is no longer a display of magical cooperation but instead the systematic slaughter of school children, and the greatest tool in the hands of the European Magical Supremacy. While Scorpius Malfoy has been preparing since birth, Rose Weasley too will get a terrifyingly close look at the horror brought to Hogwarts.
1. Prologue

There was an unusual hush over Diagon Alley this final week of August. Traditionally home to the hustle and bustle of Hogwarts students scurrying to and fro to find their books, this year families moved along almost silently, barely engaging with those they passed. Even shop windows looked dim. As she made her way down the cobblestone paths, Rose knew why no one looked at her, why voices were quieter and laughter was absent.

It was a Tournament year, and no one was excited to return to school to see the slaughter.

Every seven years the European Magical Supremacy gathered all students from its three major schools and forced them to compete in what was formerly known as the Tri-wizard tournament. Eight students from each school were randomly selected and put through a series of tasks where they must fight to survive, including fighting one another. What was once a festivity centered around magical cooperation was now a ploy of the EMS to show it's control over its people and remind those living within its magical borders that rebellion was futile, and escape was hopeless.

The year before Rose started at Hogwarts, three of her cousins had been selected for the tournament: Teddy Lupin, not truly a cousin but practically blood, a seventh year Ravenclaw, and Molly Weasley, a second year Hufflepuff, had been chosen from Hogwarts. Dominique Weasley was selected from Bauxbatons, and her family was just emerging from grieving the loss of two out of the three.

Teddy fought valiantly to the end, the final match murdering a Durmstrang who had taken out Dominique at the start of the games. But all the killing had changed Teddy. Being part werewolf and a metamorphamgus had worked to his advantage, but when he emerged covered in blood and mud his girlfriend, Victorie, could barely look at him. Her little sister had died in the games after all. The two were now married, but they remained distant from the rest of the Weasley clan, choosing to heal in private and refusing to bring children into the world, into the games.

Rose wondered how many Weasleys might enter the games this time. There were more of them, more at stake, and it was her final year. She rounded a corner and entered Madame Malkins for new school robes, pondering the weight of the year ahead, head down, brow furrowed.

Scorpius stood in Madame Malkins, getting measured for his new robes. Every year it seemed like he grew half a foot and his shoulders broadened. Quidditch training, dark arts training, and his own desire to remain in top physical shape had formed new muscles, diminished any chance at body fat, and given him increased stamina for doing longer, harder workouts. That preparation was nothing compared to the Tournament.

He'd nearly made it out of school without having to compete in the tournament. It would be his final year, but he felt as if the chances for him to be chosen were high. With the EMS ruling, they hoped to choose the strongest of the groups that tended toward darker magic so that they would prevail. Scorpius wished they would instead weed out the weak Slytherins and Durmstrangs rather than the strong ones.

As the door opened, his gaze popped to it. Rose Weasley. Of course she would come in at the same time. The Head Girl to his Head Boy. He'd been devastated at the news. With the tournament and having to be Rose's partner in rounds, seventh year looked like it would be the worst.

Rose moved into the shop, scanning the studies of clothes. "I'll be right with you, dear," came the scratchy voice of the seamstress. Rose looked up and her gaze connected with Scor's. Any trace of a smile vanished. He was her Head Boy, which meant as if the stress of the tournament weren't bad enough, she'd be spending excessive amounts of time with him.

"I'll just look around," she remarked. "I know what I need." Her size hadn't changed, except for losing the last of the baby fat in her face. Her cheekbones stood higher and her eyes appeared brighter, her long auburn curls finally tamed into a man that fell over one shoulder. She was trim and petite, but stronger then before. Hugo had insisted that she train with him all summer, and she felt it. Graceful and quick wanded with even the most complicated spells, she now sported physical strength to match. Scor, it appeared, had been training, too, but she tried not to let her gaze linger.

Scorpius scowled, waiting for the woman to finish his robes. Of course Weasley would appear. Once she was done fitting him, he roamed. It would take another half hour for them to finish all of his robes in the back of the shop. He found Rose. "Suppose you're thrilled to be Head Girl, eh, Weasley?"

"I am, actually," she replied, her eyes still locked on the winter robes she was considering. "What about you? I imagine Mummy's proud," she smirked.

The scowl at his lips twitched. "I couldn't care less about it."

She quirked an eyebrow at him and finally turned to face him. "It's a big year, Scor, so these responsibilities are more important than ever."

His scowl deepened, eyes narrowing. "Don't call me that, Weasley, and don't talk to me like I don't realize what's at stake," he spat. "I'm not daft. I know lives are on the line."

"Then act like someone others than yours could be lost, too," she huffed. "Twenty three people will go to us with Hogwarts and not go home at the end of the year. And people who have blood on their hands will walk the halls with us. I don't care if you don't like me, Malfoy, but you're going to have to work with me to make sure the place doesn't go up in flames."

He shrugged. "Maybe if it did, the EMS would have its fill."

"The EMS is never going to have its fill," she said dropping her voice low.

A sarcastic chuckle moved through his lips. "Really? I thought they'd roll over at the demands of 17 year olds."

"Someone needs to stand up to them," she replied. "What they do to us is inhuman. "

"So would the slaughter that would happen if someone stood up to them," he said, his lips pursing into a straight line. "Bad idea all around."

"You may be fine with things how they are," she said, moving away from him to the other side of the clothing rack, "but not everyone is. And one day you'll have to choose a side."

Scorpius shrugged. "I'm not worried about the EMS."

She looked up and caught his gaze. "You should be."

"I don't think so," he said, smirk slowly forming. "You, on the other hand, should be."

She worked an eyebrow at him. "And why should I, specifically, be worried?" Rose had her own reasons but she wanted to know his.

He shrugged. "Not just you. Most should be."

She scoffed a laugh. "Except you. You're perfectly content to eat out of a silver spoon and watch everyone else wait and wonder at what horrors might happen to them, aren't you?"

His smirk solidified. "Exactly. Even if I'm chosen, I have no problem weeding out the weak."

"Having a heart of stone is not something to be proud of," she said flatly, moving to another rack further across the store.

"World like this, there's no reason to have a heart of anything else," he said, watching her as she left. "Can't be soft and survive."

"Yes," she said, shooting him a glance, "you can. Compassion is not a weakness."

"Compassion gets you killed in the tournament," he said, brows furrowing. "Take a second to care for another and that's when they kill you."

"We're not in the tournament out here," she said. "It's been seven years since the last one."

He shrugged. "Better to not get in the habit."

Rose rolled her eyes. "I don't know why I bother." He would never change. He would never have a compassionate bone in his body. He would never care about anyone else.

Scorpius chuckled. "I don't know why you'd want to."

She flashed a look at him. Rose was not one to give up on people, but she wondered if Scorpius was worth the effort. "Well, if you're not going to take being Head Boy seriously, don't bother wearing the pin. Give it to someone else who will actually care. "

He shook his head. "If they thought someone else ore worthy, they would have awarded it to him."

His logic was sound, but she still begged to differ. "Then prove you're worthy of it. Prove me wrong."

A laugh pushed through his lips. "Your opinion doesn't matter to me, Weasley."

"One day someone's opinion offer than your own will matter to you," she said, moving away from home. "I just hope it isn't too late."

A smirk settled to his lips. "Probably not."

Rose huffed a sigh and turned to reply to him but the seamstress intercepted her and started carting her off to the dressing room. She glanced back at Scorpius one last time. It was sure to be an interesting year.


	2. Chapter 1

How the Great Hall managed to stretch any further than it already had was a mystery to Rose, and she pondered the thought as she stepped through the doors for dinner. The traditional four house tables were now joined by four more to accommodate the guests filling the halls of Hogwarts. Two tables now sat between the Ravenclaws and the Gryffindors, hosting the ladies of Beauxbatons, and two tables split the Hufflepuffs and the Slytherins to suit the men of Durmstrang.

The head table had stretched to the left and right, too, now accommodating President Vassar of the European Magical Supremacy, Headmistress Bordeaux of Beauxbatons, Headmaster Chekhov of Durmstrang, as well as a few other ministry officials. Reporter for the Daily Prophet, Avalon Garnet, and her photographer, lingered on the skirts of the head table, her quill making notes wildly as her eyes hungrily drank in the sight of students taking their places.

Rose inhaled deeply and walked with her head held high to Gryffindor table, slipping into a seat between her cousin Lily and her younger brother, Hugo. Both sported smiles, as did Albus and Amelia, seated across from her, but the light did not reach their eyes.

All throughout dinner, the dull roar of conversation buzzed low along the room, glances exchanged back and forth, hearts rising and sinking any time a figure at the head table moved for their water goblet, until finally Headmaster Harcourt stood and called everyone to attention.

A hush fell over the crowd and a single fork clattered loudly to the floor. "Good evening, one and all," echoed the rich voice of Hogwarts's fearless leader. "Tonight is a night written among the stars for many years, and by those stars many of your lives will change forever. Tonight marks the start of the Tri-wizard Tournament, and I would like to invite President Vassar to remind us what lies ahead."

A slender man with silver-gray hair and wild gray eyes took to the podium. He was dressed in a robe of shimmering navy, so dark it rivaled the night sky in depth, and it glittered along the sleeves with constellations sewn with thread bewitched to glimmer and move as did the heavens above.

"The Tri-wizard Tournament has a long standing history in our world and among these schools," the President began, and with each word heat burned beneath Rose's skin and her grip on the hands of her cousin and brother tightened. "It has been highly anticipated and highly effective in years past. The European Magical Supremacy values loyalty, cooperation, and the understanding that for the good of the alliance sacrifices must be made."

"Sacrifices," huffed Albus under his breath. "Publicised slaughter of children, you mean," he added, and Rose hushed him sharply. No matter that she agreed with him. The trouble was they didn't have any way of stopping it. Anyone who had tried in years past had been put to death or thrown in Azkaban. Rebellion was futile, and the tournament was to remind everyone of that very fact.

"These are the rules of the tournament," Vassar continued. "Eight champions will be selected from each school by the Goblet of Fire. The Goblet has full authority to select whomever it feels worthy of the fight, and once a name has been drawn it may not be returned or replaced by another champion. There will be three tasks that will test the knowledge, strength, and stamina of each champion. From the first task, sixteen victors shall emerge. From the second, only eight. And from the final task, one victor will prevail. One victor shall receive the honor and glory do to him or her who has proven what a true, loyal member of the European Magical Supremacy is capable of."

One victor, twenty-three children killed for sport, she thought. She'd seen what the tournament had done to a surviving victor. Teddy Lupin had been put on parade, given riches and fame, but he was a shell of the man he'd once been. He and his now-wife Victoire, lived in solitude as long as the EMS allowed, and were forced to be paraded at will. They were childless, by choice, for neither wanted to bring a little one into a world where it may be forced to fight its peers for the entertainment of the wizarding world.

Tonight was one of those nights of parading, and Teddy sat between four other victors at the end of the Head Table. Rose caught his gaze and thought she detected the faintest flicker of an encouraging smile, but his gaze was soon down at his food once more, the flash of a flask tucking away into his pocket.

"Between tasks, champions are forbidden from engaging in combat with fellow champions," declared President Vassar, commanding her attention once more. "They shall continue in their day-to-day classes and festivities, awaiting further instruction about the tournament tasks to come. No professor is to be found aiding champions from any school, and no student is to provoke a champion under any circumstances. In the tasks, the champions area allowed only their wits and their wands, and the task may last as long as it takes to secure the proper number of victors. Viewing of each task is mandatory by all students, professors, and a curfew will be instated in every state of the EMS to ensure that all citizens watch from their homes. The only exception would be that those who do not have the proper equipment be escorted to the city centers and remain until the task is complete. And now," he cleared his throat, "the Goblet."

The double doors to the Great Hall were flung open, and a giant crate that would have stood a foot over James on his tallest day was being wheeled in agonizingly slow. Filch, ancient and well-past retirement, pushed it forward with every eye glued to each movement, until it landed with a dust-billowing thud at the front of room.

One by one the sides of the crate evaporated into thin-air with a flourish. In its place stood a towering, glittering silver goblet with deep etchings on every side, a dancing blue flame leaping from within. A faint gasp rippled around the room.

"It's time."

With each selection the flame swelled high then drooped low, a slightly charred piece of parchment would float into the hands of the President. Eight blue fans came first, each one revealing the name of an unlucky Beauxbatons belle who would be competing. Next were eight small scrolls with names written so roughly it was a wonder President Vassar could read the names of the Durmstrang students selected.

Each tournament champion walked down a never-ending aisle toward the front of the room, up onto the platform, then through a door off to the side to the trophy room. While the tournament was to be broadcast, the champions would be announced in the next day's paper.

Finally, the first Hogwarts student was selected.

"Lacy Cook."

Rose craned her neck to get a good look at the girl. A Hufflepuff, Lacy couldn't have been more than thirteen years old. She was crying, chocolate pigtails bobbing, as she ran up the steps and out of the crowd.

"Jared Middler."

Another Hufflepuff. He was a seventh year like her, and she'd had Jared in classes since they were eleven. Tousled blonde locks, he fit the built. A beater on his house quidditch team, which seemed fitting as he pounded the table twice before sauntering toward the trophy room.

"Isolde Norton."

Rose felt Lily go rigid beside her. Izzy and Lily had been attached at the hip until they had a falling out about Trevor McMillan last year. Trevor, who, was holding Lily's other hand with a knuckle-white grip. The sixth year Ravenclaw kept her composure fairly well, pausing for a brief moment at the top of the stairs to look back at the crowd. Rose heard Lily swallow hard and saw the pair to her right nod in the young woman's direction.

"Catherine Zellers."

Another girl from Ravenclaw, a first year. Poor thing was shaking like a leaf, but she made it all the way to the trophy room without crying.

"Scorpius Malfoy."

Rose did a double take, her eyes widening as she rose slightly from her chair to watch her blonde haired Head Boy stand from his table and saunter –yes, saunter– to the trophy room. Of course he was chosen, Rose thought, but it a twinge of pain still struck her. She might not care for him, but there was a chance for anyone who entered the tournament that they might not emerge alive.

"Devan McDowd."

Rose watched as the pair of them moved along either side of the Slytherin table, almost in sync, up the stairs, then vanished off to the right. All that was left was Gryffindor.

Lily's grip tightened around her hand, and Hugo was squeezing her so hard that she thought her fingers might go numb. Albus and Amelia had linked either, and she doubted either of them were breathing.

A piece of parchment fluttered up into the air, and President Vassar caught it with one hand. The entire Gryffindor table collectively held their breath.

"Hugo Weasley."

"No!" Rose gasped, now grasping her brother's arm with both hands. At sixteen he was freckle-faced and wide-eyed, the spitting image of their father at that age. He pulled away to stand, pleading silently with his sister to let go.

Tears were welling in her eyes and her heart pounding so loudly in her ears as she released him watching him walk to the stage that she didn't hear the next name until it was repeated a second time and Hugo had stopped in his tracks to stare at her in horror.

"Rose Weasley."

Gryffindor table was in an uproar. Siblings had never been selected in the same tournament before. Cousins, yes. Siblings, never. Rose somehow found her feet and walked stunned toward her brother. She'd barely reached him when she collapsed into his arms in a hug. "No," she breathed. "No… no… no…"

"We have to go, Rose," he whispered, voice shaking, as he steadied her and took her hand. She nodded summing up every ounce of her strength, and together they stepped up onto the stage to head to the trophy room. Turning, Rose caught Teddy's gaze, which was clearer than she'd seen it in years.

This was not right. Children were being sent to slaughter. For sport. So the leaders could scare their people into staying in power. She was part of their games, as was her brother, and someone else's brother, and someone's sister, and so on.

On a dime, Rose halted them. Hugo stopped in his tracks and quirked a wary eyebrow at her. Turning to face the crowd, to stare at the President, Rose fought back tears. She glanced in the crowd to find the faces of her cousins, those now calling out or crying, her friends and fellow classmates who had stared all night long in horror and disbelief. This was not right and they knew it.

Looking at her brother, her heart broke. She squeezed his hand tight and he did the same. They would figure this out. Together. And together she and Hugo raised their clasped hands into the air.

Slowly the Gryffindor table mirrored the gesture. As they turned to head to the trophy room, she could have sworn Hufflepuff had begun to do the same.


	3. Chapter 2

Scorpius stood with his arms folded over his chest. He looked toward the door to see the Gryffindors walk in. His brows twitched when he saw that it was Rose and her brother. Siblings? And now both heads of Hogwarts were in, as well.

Rose gripped Hugo's hand tight, feeling that at any moment she might pass out. She was heart broken, furious, and her mind had barely tipped the idea that one of them, if not both of them, would not survive the tournament. Her poor parents. One of the Ravenclaws gasped at the sight of them, a petite blonde fourth year who Rose had tutored in Runes once. A pair of Durmstrangs eyed them warily, nostrils flaring in disgust at their gesture of unity.

Rose caught Scorpius's eye and lifted her chin a little taller. He already thought her weak; she need not give him any more reason.

"Champions! Champions!" came the lilt of a reporter's sing-song voice as she swept into the room. "Twenty-four shining faces, just look at you!" More glances were exchanged amidst the gathered students. Shining was hardly the word she would have used. "Time for photographs!"

The reporter and her photographer began arranging students, first by school, then by age, gender, type, and so on. Rose only released her hand on Hugo when Avalon Garnet pulled him to pose with a fellow sixth year. "And now–oh! Hogwarts Head Boy and Girl! How marvelous!" Rose looked at Scorpius, his badge glittering in the candlelight much like her own. They were shuffled in front of a trophy case and instructed to stand near to one another. "Now you dear, face him," the woman guided, shoving Rose toward his chest, "and let your hadn't rest just there, but be sure we can see the badge!" Rose flinched and leaned backward and instead of forward. Was this truly necessary? "And you dear," the woman chirped at Scor, " step closer! Step closer! Arm around her waist. Just there."

Scorpius did as she said, his smirk from before slowly changing into a scowl. Why he wanted them to be so close together. He has no clue. "Is this really necessary?"

Rose was thinking the same thing. "Of course, dear! The world wants a story!" Avalon chimed. "Now step closer, love. Go on."

She stepped nearer to him, sighing. "That's the whole point of these games isn't it?" she murmured, brushing a piece of lint from the collar of his robe. "A show."

His chest moved in a silent chuckle. "Blood bath for pleasure." He slid his arm around her and held her close to him, resisting the urge to grimace at the touch.

She inhaled sharply at the gesture, her lips pressed together flatly.

"Now how about a smile? For the cameras, please."

Rose dared a glance over his shoulder at Hugo who had a comical look of disgust across his features. He made a face and a gesture that made her laugh, a genuine smile sweeping across her features for the first time in days. She looked up at Scorpius just as the camera flashed, and then immediately out to the reporter. "Sorry! Wasn't ready!"

"No, that'll do love! Quite nicely, in fact."

Scorpius's fake, barely there smile dissipated. "Now they'll all think you love me. Way to go, Weasley."

She pushed away from him rather sharply. "Yes, because your ego needs another boost." Rose straightened her robes and pretended to brush him off of her.

Scorpius shrugged slightly. "It's not my fault that you choose the most inopportune times to express your deepest feelings," he said, smirking twitching st his lips before he took s look around the room. Only one would emerge from this group. 23 would die. He, hopefully, would prevail.

"You are spending way too much time thinking about this, and talking about this," she said, shooting him a glance as she brushed past him toward her brother.

"Ooh, a lovers quarrel?" said Avalon, quill hesitating in mid air.

"Definitely not." Hadn't she been listening? Besides, they had bigger fish to fry. Namely a tournament that would leave all but one of them dead.

A chuckle moved through Scorpius's lips, "not hardly. You haven't seen us quarrel yet," he said, intentionally leaving the 'lovers' bit out to let the reporter go where she may. Might as well play it up if one of them would be dead by the end anyway.

"Exploding half the potions classroom is not something to brag about," she replied, rolling her eyes. They had done that, much to Professor Clarion's dismay, last spring. She told him being parters was a bad idea, but the man insisted. And he lost two desks and three cauldrons at least.

The smirk remained at his lips. "What can I say? Everything between us is fiery."

The disgust written on her face was plain as she whipped around to face him. "Are you–"

"What a tragedy!" gasped Avalon. "A star-crossed couple and her brother! Oh, the people are going to love this!" Her quill was writing rapid fire.

"Wait, what. No. That's not… what are you writing?"

Scorpius let his mouth fall open in feigned shock. "May as well not be a secret anymore since one of us will end up dead, right?"

"Oh how romantic," she snapped, giving him an irritated smile. "Yes, let's proclaim it to the world before one of us gets killed or, better yet, has to kill one another."

He shrugged. "Never have claimed to be romantic. Not really my cup of tea."

"Or firewhisky," she murmured, quirking an eyebrow at him.

He smirked, the remanence of a laugh at his lips. "That's by the bottle, love. Not cup."

She smirked too, folding her arms over her chest. "Truer words have never been said."Another flash of the camera pulled her attention, then brought to light just how close they were standing, how peering up at him, even in argument, could read ten thousand different ways. "Uh.. Rose?" said a concerned Hugo who had watched the entire exchange.

He took the moment after the flash to steal a kiss from her lips, and then saunter backwards a few steps. "May the odds be ever in your favor, love," he said with a wink before turning to Devan.

Her eyes went wide and her hands froze mid-air in front of her in shock. "What the bloody hell…" she murmured, unable to move.

Before she knew what was happening, Hugo had his wand out and was charging for Scorpius. "Keep your bloody hands off my sister," he spat, and just as he raised the wand to curse him, a separate curse froze him mid step.

"Uh uh uh, my boy," came the harsh voice of President Vassar, lifting Hugo with the wave of his wand and setting him down several feet away from the Slytherin duo. "No fighting champions outside the tasks."

Scorpius chuckled, smirk resettling st his lips. "Already forgetting the rules, Weasley? Shame."

"Once we're in there, I swear–"

"Hugo, stop. Please," Rose shushed him, gripping his arms.

President Vassar cleared his throat to resume order. "I hope you all know what an honor it is that you have been selected. You will represent your state, your school, your family, and the European Magical Supremecy in these tournament tasks. One of you will emerge victorious…" He continued on repeating the rules, but Rose could hardly focus. She was in the tournament. Her brother was in the tournament. And Scorpius Malfoy had just kissed her.


	4. Chapter 3

Scorpius tossed his bag on the couch in their common room after being swarmed by fellow Slytherins after the meeting. He waved the fireplace into life and perched in the armchair he'd claimed upon moving into the suite. There would be no rounds tonight, so he could relax. Or as close to relax as possible considering he would be turned into a murderer.

Rose had lingered with her family in the Great Hall as long as she could, and Teddy even came by to speak with Rose and Hugo. Finally, her mind spinning in every which direction, she pulled herself away and retreated to the Head Quarters. Pushing open the portrait, she shuffled inside, brushing a hand through her hair. "Merlins beard," she sighed, unaware of him as she slumped on the couch.

Scorpius brought his bottle of Firewhisky to his lips with a chuckle. He procured another and sent it floating to her. "Looks like you could use one tonight."

"Merlin's beard!" she exclaimed this time, nearly jumping out of her skin. She sank back into the couch with a sigh, trying to calm her heart from the scare. "I could definitely use one, but I shouldn't…"

"You're going to have to learn to control that fright," he said with a chuckle before taking another sip. "And just have one. It'll help take the edge off for the night, and you'll actually sleep."

She opened her eyes and lifted her head just enough to quirk an eyebrow at him. "Scorpius Malfoy actually trying to help me?" Rose asked reaching for the bottle. "Or are you trying to poison me, knock me off before the tournament even begins?"

A laugh pushed through his lips. "Everyone deserves to sleep after finding out they may die within the next few months."

She laughed lightly, wishing away the depth and truth in his statement. "I don't think 'may' is the right word there. That makes it sound like we have an option." Rose brought the bottle to her lips and took a swallow, grimacing slightly, trying not to cough at the bitter taste.

"You do," he said, taking another swig before looking over to her. "You could try to win instead of going in already defeated."

"I'm not already defeated," she said, taking another drink. "I'm in shock, thank you very much. I'm sorry I haven't wanted this since I was twelve like some people."

Scorpius shrugged. "Wanted this and raised for this are two completely different things"

"The way you talk about this," she started, sitting up to face him, taking another swig, "they sound the same."

He sat up, leaning his elbows on his knees and absently dangling the bottle between his fingers. "I've trained for this my whole life because we knew I'd be chosen at some point. I was born to fight for my life. My grandfather sealed that fate." He took another swig before sailing the bottle into the waste bin. "If the desire to survive equates to anticipating the Tournament, so be it."

"It's luck that you got chosen, Scorpius," she said frowning. "Not luck, but you know what I mean. It could have been Jake or Trevor or Alicia or Nesta, it wasn't guaranteed to be you."

He laughed. "Think what you want," he said, popping open another bottle. "Either way, I'm kicking up my training. With both of us in, they aren't making us do rounds anymore. So, I'll be out of your hair."

She watched him and finished off her firewhisky, tossing it into the rubbish bin just as he had. "Training," she said, mulling the word over. "If they won't train us, I guess we have to do it ourselves."

He nodded slightly, taking a long swig. "They won't train us. Makes the first task fly by."

She frowned. "You mean more of us die quicker." Rose reached over and took the bottle from him, taking a swig. "Great."

His brow furrowed. "If they hadn't set that rule in place, you'd be through that wall right now," he said, taking his bottle back.

"And you'd have a broken nose for your stunt earlier," she retorted sinking back into the arm of the couch.

He laughed. "Can't tell me you're the only girl in this school who hasn't wanted to kiss me."

Rose threw a pillow at him. "Oh I can tell you that. And I will. Because the thought has never crossed my mind."

He caught the pillow and tucked it behind his head. "Right. Okay, Weasley."

"Don't you ever do that again," she said, slumping back into the couch.

"No promises," he said as he drained the rest of the bottle. "She'll have everyone in EMS eating up that story."

"Well I promise to hex you into next Tuesday if you even think about it," she said, frowning. "They've got plenty to write about. They don't need some made up romance to keep them occupied."

"I know the last games were traumatic," he said, looking over to her. "But do you not remember the sponsor aspect? I'm helping you, whether you realize it or not."

She instantly sobered, her gaze flickering to the fire. "I remember." Teddy had sponsors like crazy, what with his abilities, but Molly didn't make it through the first task and Dominique was never sponsored at all. "You really think they'll care about that?" She glanced back at him.

He nodded slightly. "Like you said, they want a show."

She narrowed her gaze at him. "That's your bright idea. Play it up for the cameras then kill each other later?"

Scorpius shrugged. "If it comes to it."

Rose pressed her lips together in thought, but the firewhiskey made her head swim. "Hm." The tournament has just selected its champions, and she still hadn't written her parents. They would be devastated. After a long moment, the clock chimed. "And that's my cue to go," she pushed herself up off the couch and the floor spun under her feet. She caught herself on the arm of the couch and paused to steady herself.

Scorpius laughed and stood slowly. Of course she wasn't used to firewhisky. "As much as I'd like to laugh at you stumbling to your room, if you hurt yourself, they'll blame me for it. Let me help you?" He wasn't about to get in trouble for 'hurting her outside the tournament.' He at least wanted a chance to win.

"No, no," she said unconvincingly, brushing him away. "You'll drop me. On purpose." Another step and she lost her balance, swooning toward him.

He caught her with a laugh. "You'll fall on your own," he said, holding her up.

"First you kiss me and then you give me firewhisky. Are you trying to sabotage me or seduce me?" she said, finally allowing him to maneuver her around the furniture.

Scorpius rolled his eyes as he led her to her bedroom. "Neither, for once," he said with a chuckle.

"Right. No ulterior motive whatsoever…" Rose held more tightly to him as they passed through the doorway until her feet tripped over the rug. "I don't believe you.

"Of course you don't," he said, helping her a few steps further to her bed. "I didn't expect you to."

"Do you even know what you want?" she asked, turning to face him when they stopped at the foot of her bed.

His brow furrowed. "What do you mean?"

"Fame. Glory. Winning the tournament," she listed, resisting the urge to brush the bangs from his eyes. "Making your grandfather happy or whoever. What do you, Scorpius Malfoy, want?"

He looked down at her, not realizing how close they were. "I want to survive."

She blinked up at him, the world spinning around them. "Just to survive?"

Scorpius nodded slightly. "I couldn't care less if there was no reward for winning. I just don't want to die."

Rose studied his face carefully. This was the most real, the most sincere, she'd ever seen him. "Me either."

"Then maybe we won't," he said, offering a faint smile to her as he tried to usher her into bed. "But you need to sleep."

"Maybe we won't," she echoed, nodding and matching her smile to his. He was handsome when he smiled. "You need to get some, too," she said, sinking on to the edge of the bed. "Big day tomorrow."

He nodded slightly. "And I'll have a tonic for you in the morning for the headache I'm sure you'll have," he said with a chuckle.

"Thanks," Rose laughed, raising a hand to her forehead then running it through her mess of curls. "You know, you're not completely awful. Occasionally."


	5. Chapter 4

It was as though the castle didn't know what horror had rung through its corridors the night before; it still let the bright light of morning filter through stained glass windows just as it had every morning for over a thousand years. The sun still rose and the giant squid lolled about on the surface of the Black Lake, enjoying the freedom while students slept snug in their beds instead of tossing rocks into its home.

A mess of auburn curls peaked out from beneath the patchwork quilt and a muffled groan hummed beneath the sheets. Rose Weasley emerged from sleep reluctantly and pushed the covers down to find she was still in her school uniform from yesterday's classes. Her shoes and outer robe had been discarded on the floor, but her feet remained stockinged, one gray sock climbing the length of her calf, the other bunched around her ankle. Her tie was draped on the headboard and her skirt was twisted around her waist, wrinkled beyond its usual pleats.

Rose flung back the covers and pushed herself up to sit on the edge of the bed, bringing a hand to her head as the room spun around her. A faint buzzing filled her ears and everything seemed to be slightly slanted. "What the bloody…"

Firewhisky. That was the culprit.

Another groan pushed from her lips. Last night she had shared a bottle, or two, of firewhisky with Scorpius Malfoy. Last night she had been chosen Hogwarts Tri-Wizard Champion. Last night had not been a dream.

Another intake of breath, her lungs filling and putting enough wind in her sails to lift her to her feet, gripping the bedknob for stability. Rose ran a neatly manicure hand through her wild mane of curls, attempting to braid them over one shoulder as she padded toward her bedroom door. Pushing it open, she winced at the bright sunlight cascading in through their open balcony doors.

Scorpius, it appeared, had been awake for some time, as he stood at his desk meddling with his potions kit. "Its too early for homework," she mumbled, "Even for us." This year's Head Boy and Girl had always been at the top of their class, acing their OWLs and launching into NEWT level classes with ease.

"It's not homework," he replied, his tone even and unreadable.

Or maybe it was her headache that kept her from picking up on the minute details or the hint of a smirk that revealed his dimple. Rose counted her steps to the couch and sank to a seat, much as she had last night, expecting to lay her head against a pillow, only to remember she'd tossed it at Scor just before midnight.

Sighing, she propped herself up against the arm of the couch, wrapping her arms around her knees. She tugged her wayward sock back up to its proper height, then moved her gaze back to him. "What in Merlin's beard has you up so early then?" she asked, wiping the last of the sleep from her eyes.

"What kept me up all night," she heard him mutter under his breath, but before she could answer he was headed her way, two small goblets in hand. "Here. Drink."

Her brow raised as she extended a wary hand. "You aren't poisoning me are you?" she asked with a faint laugh that made her headache pound twice against her temple.

Scorpius stifled a chuckle. "Relax. The first task is a week away. I need at least some real competition in there." He extended the goblet towards her further, the muscles in his arm revealed by a rolled up shirtsleeve pulsing and clearly powerful.

She took it, reluctantly, their fingers brushing. Rose glanced up at him then held the goblet under her nose, still unsure.

"It's a tonic. For the hangover," he explained, sinking to a seat against the other arm of the couch, downing his own glass. "See?" Scorpius waved his glass before setting it on the coffee table with a thunk. "Not poison."

Rose sipped hers and tried not to gag. "I'm not hungover," she lied.

"Right," he snorted, propping his feet up on the coffee table. "And I'm not a Hogwarts Champion."

Pressing her lip in a flat line, she tore her gaze away from him. They were both Hogwarts Champions. As was Hugo. Taking a deep breath, she downed the rest of it then clanked it onto the coffee table. It was then that she spotted the Daily Prophet unrolled over a stack of books. "Out already?"

Scorpius nodded. "First thing this morning. We made the front page."

Rose reached immediately for the paper and drank in the headline hungrily. "TWENTY-FOUR CHOSEN; ROMANCE AT RISK AMONG CHAMPIONS" it said in swirling, moving calligraphy. Beneath the title were three shots of each school's champions, but in the blink of an eye they swirled together in a heart shaped portrait of Rose and Scorpius, from the moment he'd held her in his arms and she had laughed at Hugo.

They truly looked young and in love, and the image cracked down the middle like a heartbreak as their argument unfolded before the camera, ending in a kiss. The kiss she was sure she had imagined. The kiss that was sure to make her father spit his morning coffee all over the table.

"My parents!" she exclaimed, bolting up from the couch. She nearly leapt over the coffee table, thankful that the tonic was doing its work of keeping the spinning room at bay, and she practically collided with her desk by the window.

"Oy, watch it, Weasley. What about them?" came Scorpius's reply as he steadied the rocking table and propped his feet back up.

Rose shuffled madly through all the papers on her desk in search of a scrap of parchment. "I forgot to write them! They'll have seen the morning papers and… and…" She should have been the one to tell them, not The Daily Prophet.

"Calm down, Weasley. It's not the end of the world," said Scorpius, rising from the couch and strolling in her direction. "Besides, these arrived last night, just after you went to bed." As though revealing a magic card from his sleeve, Scorpius flicked his wrist and two small letters appeared in his hand. They were from her mother and father.

Rose reached for them but he immediately held them out of her reach. "Give it here, Malfoy," she said, trying again as he stepped backward. "That's not funny. You should have woken me up."

"Oh believe me, I tried. You couldn't hear me over your own snoring," he replied, dangling them above her head. His eyes were dancing with an unfamiliar light, and Rose had a right mind to knee him in the precious jewels to retrieve her precious letters, but instead she reached for his arm and wrenched it toward her.

"I don't snore," she said, her second lie of the morning. "Seriously, Scorpius. Hand them over." His grip was white-knuckled as she pulled on the parchment, and she feared the letters would tear before he relented. Rose whipped her head over to look at him and found his gaze mere inches from her own. Her breath caught in her throat and her movement slowed.

Scorpius smirked, that dreaded dimple appearing again. "Say please."

Rose inhaled slowly, drinking in the smell of his cologne. He was so close, his lips parted in a grin, and she was sorely tempted to–

"Oof! Bloody hell, Weasley!"

With a wave of her wand, hidden low at her side, she'd ripped the carpet out from beneath his feet, sending him catapulting backward onto the ground, his grip loosening immediately around the letters. She didn't wait for him to react or retaliate before disappearing into her room and locking the door. Rose leaned against it, breathing hard, trying to erase the subtle smell of spearmint and moss from her memory.

Before pushing away and sinking back onto the bed, she could have sworn she heard, "Not even a bloody thank you," followed by a string of curses from beyond the door.


End file.
